apartment. Would she be reliable? Most witnesses weren’t and Grace could feel time ticking away. She could not let this one get cold. She had to build on the positives. She had possible evidence, maybe a witness. Bit by bit, piece by piece, that’s how you get it done, she told herself as she knocked on Bernice Burnett’s door.
Locks clicked and it opened to a woman in a full-length sweater and fluffy slippers.
“Bernice Burnett?
“Yes.”
Grace held out her identification.
“Detective Grace Garner. I’d like to talk to you about this evening, follow up on what you told the officer earlier. May I come in?”
“Oh. Yes, Detective, of course, but I’ve got-” Bernice glanced back to her visitor, Jason Wade.
“That’s okay,” Jason stood. “Thank you, Mrs. Burnett, you’ve been very helpful, I was just leaving.”
Grace snapped her ID closed. She was annoyed. Annoyed as hell that a reporter was talking to her witness before her, the primary. And why, damn it, why did it have to be Jason Wade?
He didn’t even glance at her until they were inches apart at the doorway, then he leveled a cold look at her. Or was it only a reflection of what he’d discovered in her eyes? Did he even know about her disaster with Agent Asshole? Well, to hell with it all, Grace. Do your job. Just do your damn job.
“Excuse me for a moment, Bernice, I’ll be right back,” Grace said.
She couldn’t risk damage to her case by letting testimonial evidence become a headline. She followed Jason down the hall but he refused to stop.
“Will you hold on, please?”
He halted. But he refused to turn and face her, forcing her to walk around him until she stood before him.
“How did you get in this building?”
“Give me a break.”
“All right, what did she tell you? What’re you going to print? Are you going to hurt my investigation?”
“Ever heard of freedom of the press? I don’t work for you, so back off.”
Both of them were breathing hard; neither wanted to acknowledge what was raging beneath the surface, until finally Grace took the first step.
“Jason, look, maybe I made a mistake. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
“ If you hurt me? ” He shook his head. “I thought we had something good. That it was going somewhere. You just tossed me like yesterday’s news without so much as a ‘hey, we have to talk.’”
“So I suck at these things. I’ve always been alone. I-”
“You got a name on the victim, the nun?”
“What?”
Pages of his notebook snapped to a fresh one. His pen was poised.
“You’re on the record. Can you confirm that it’s Sister Anne Braxton?”
“No. We’re not prepared to release-”
“Any indication on cause of death?”
“That will be confirmed by the Medical Ex-”
“I didn’t ask you for confirmation, I asked for an indication?”
“Jason, come on.”
“Was she shot, stabbed, beaten? Was it an act of God, Grace, tell me?”
“You’re being rude.”
“I’m doing my job. People around here are going to be outraged that someone would murder this nun. They call her an angel of the community. So you got a suspect yet?”
“This is how you want to play it?”
The jingle of keys interrupted them as a uniformed officer trotted up the stairs.
“Detective, we’ve got a bunch of media out front who’re demanding to talk to you right now.”
Without releasing Jason from her glare, she said, “Tell them to wait. We’ve got a press person coming to us from downtown.”
The officer sized up Jason. “You got some trouble here, detective?”
“Mr. Wade here has breached the boundary of my scene. Escort him to the street and keep all press out of this building.”
“No need for that,” Jason said. “I’m finished here.” He shot Grace a parting glare. “Believe me.”
Bernice Burnett showed Grace a cherished photograph of her husband, the late Ambrose Burnett. He was a cabinetmaker who once did some of the custom work on the president’s plane, Bernice recalled, while Lulu, her tabby, rubbed up against Grace Garner.
“You must be proud.”
“Oh, I am. We have personal letters from the presidents who admired his work. Would you like to see them?”
“Another time, perhaps. Bernice, I’d like to come back to what you saw tonight. Your big window is beautiful.”
“I like it.”
“It rises from the floor to your ceiling. You’ve got a clear view of the building next door.”
“Yes. I usually can see who comes and goes while I’m watching my usual TV shows. I like the old reruns of shows my husband enjoyed.”
“Can you mark in your television guide at each point in a show when you noticed something happening next door? It’ll help me with a time line.”
Bernice knitted her brow.
“Let’s see, the pizza man came halfway through Green Acres. After him, the second man came.”
“The second man? When was that?”
“When Love Boat started. I love that old show.”
“Did you notice if the second man rang the bell?”
“No, it seemed like he just walked in like the door was open.”
“Had you ever seen him before?”
“I couldn’t be sure. He’s hard to describe. Just a man, tall, I think.”
“White, black, Asian?”
“Hard to say for certain. I think white.”
“Any distinguishing clothing? Or in the way he walked?”
Bernice shook her head.
“I don’t remember. It was dark; he was more like a silhouette. It was like he had business there. I thought maybe he was a priest. I thought nothing at all of it because the sisters get a lot of visitors.”
“What came next?”
“Well, it was right near the end of Love Boat when I noticed strange lights in Sister Anne’s apartment?”
“Strange, how?”
“Like someone was going around with a lamp, or flashlight. At first I thought Sister Anne may have lit a candle, for prayers, or maybe she’d lost power.”
“Did you see Sister Anne arrive home?”
“No, I never did. I got up to get my cats some milk and I made myself a little snack, some cheese and crackers just before Fantasy Island started. Then I noticed it was all dark again.”
“And after that?”
“Some time at the start of the show, the lights in her apartment came on and through her curtains, which were closed but are sheers, I saw shadows. The usual kind when Sister Anne is there, but then, I think I saw two figures inside.”
Grace had been taking careful notes.
“And that’s all you noticed tonight? A man at the door and unusual lights and movements in Sister Anne’s apartment?”
“Well, that’s what I told the officer, and that nice reporter, but come to think of it, I remember a bit more.”
